


I'll Make You Stay

by glitterpop



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Implied Noncon, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, ask to tag, noncon fade to black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpop/pseuds/glitterpop
Summary: Jesse is really fucking tired of you trying to leave him





	I'll Make You Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I've only got one Overwatch story up for Reaper, and I wanted to try my hand at my fave, Jesse!! I hope I got his character right!! I wrote this to work through some major depression, and I'm gonna try to keep writing lots this year, so hopefully I can produce more gross content :) I hope you guys like this, if I need to add any tags just let me know!!!

Jesse paces restlessly at the end of the bed he’s cuffed you to. The sight reminds you of a lion caged in a too-small zoo, the lines of his body so tense you feel sympathy aches in your joints, muscle in his jaw twitching with how tightly it’s clenched. You think maybe you’d be able to hear his teeth grinding if your heart wasn’t about it beat its way out of your chest in fear. At least he doesn’t have Peacekeeper, you think, cold comfort it is as you watch his eyes flash dangerously, his gaze fixed on your naked form.

Finally, he stops pacing and stands facing you from the end of the bed, arms crossed against his chest. The flinch you give is habit at this point, and your arms give an aborted jerk that rattles the short chain of the handcuffs he’s used to attach you to the headboard. You curl your legs to your chest instead, a feeble protection from his predatory gaze, huddling as far from him as you can.

“Sweetheart,” Jesse says softly, mouth unsmiling.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes wide and locked on him. “I’m s-sorry, please, please I’m sorry…”

Jesse stays silent as he walks around the bed, spurs jangling with each deliberately heavy step. You feel yourself twitch with every step, curling into yourself tighter when he sits on the bed next to you, flesh hand coming to rest on your bare knee, rubbing idle circles into your flesh. Your stomach roils at the touch but you don’t dare to move. His eyes never break from yours.

“Are you?” he asks, cocking his head. Has he even blinked since he came into the room? You feel like prey caught in a trap and you flounder, trying to figure out the trick before you’re caught in a punishment you can’t run from again. “This is the fifth time you’ve tried to leave me, honey, and I just don’t get it.”

“I won’t—”

“Do it again?” Jesse finishes, voice turning high and lilting at the end in a mockery of your own voice. “Now, I feel like I’ve heard that before. More than once, in fact. I wonder where.”

You have nothing to say to that.

It’s been months since Jesse snatched you from your home in the middle of the night and brought you here. Not that you know where “here” is, or how long it’s really been. There’s no window in the room he keeps you in, only a harsh overhead light. He keeps you in a basement, you think, but you’re not sure. You’ve only seen the stairs briefly, from his visits and your short-lived escape attempts. You never manage to get more than halfway up the stairs before he’s at the top, growling and dragging you back down.

Now here you are, stripped and chained to your bed, Jesse’s hand sliding from your knee to your inner thigh, fingertips pressing into the bruises he last left there, just starting to turn yellow-green.

“Why do you keep tryin’ to leave me, honey?” Jesse asks, and the pain in his voice catches you off-guard. He actually sounds _hurt_ that you would try to escape your imprisonment. “Don’t I take care of you? Don’t I love on you enough? Why won’t you _love me_?”

“I want to go home,” you tell him, moving your leg to try and dislodge his hand. His grip only tightens.

“You _are_ home,” he insists. “I made this home for us, sweetheart. Why don’t you like it?”

“This isn’t home!” you burst out, anger finally stronger than your fear. “I don’t even know where I _am_! I want to go home, I want to see my family, I don’t want to be here anymore!”

Jesse goes back to his unblinking staring and you meet his gaze head on, unwavering. You were scared, you were _so scared_ , but you were also _so mad_ that you could barely bring yourself to care about the consequences of your outburst. Jesse was never kind when it came to punishments—

_“Now, would you ever learn your lesson if I wasn’t a little mean?”_

\--and you had the bruises and scars to prove it. Your ribs still ache a little if you breathe too deeply from when he’d knocked you to the ground and kicked you repeatedly there for throwing a glass at his head. No, Jesse wasn’t kind when he punished you, but you just couldn’t care right now. You had to stand up for yourself, you _had_ to. Giving in wasn’t an option.

“Maybe it’s my fault,” Jesse says. “I like that fire in you, I do baby. I _love_ that you’re such a firecracker, but maybe I’ve been too lenient. Let you get away with bratty behavior, let you think I’m a pushover. You think I’m too soft on you, baby?” His lips curl into a sneer when you scoff at him. “See, now that’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart. You wouldn’t disrespect me so much,” and here he leans forward, setting his lips at your ear, “if I was a little less soft on you.” He lingers, sliding his hand now from thigh to your naked crotch, just resting it there, and you can feel the smile on his mouth when you tense at his touch. “I could just teach you a lesson now, hm? How’s that sound baby?”

Jesse’s never forced himself on you other than heavy petting, though you aren’t sure why. You think maybe he just enjoys keeping you guessing what he’s going to do, or he likes watching you squirm, or maybe he likes hearing you beg him not to fuck you. He _threatens_ to fuck you, though, and it’s one of his most effective threats. You’d do anything to keep from crossing that line, though you aren’t sure how much longer it’ll last. You swallow, dry throat clicking loudly in the silence as he waits, and you force yourself to swallow your pride. Naked and chained up isn’t the best position to be in to fight.

“No…”

“Hm? What was that, honey?” His fingers press harder against you and you clench your jaw.

“Please, I’ll do anything… I won’t run again, please, anything but that…”

Jesse pulls back from you but keeps his hand against you. He looks contemplative as he drums his fingers against your sex. You swallow again, watching his eyes track the movement, and try again.

“Jesse, please…” He perks up at his name, which you so rarely use. “I won’t run again, Jesse, I promise.”

The silence stretches so long that you fight not to squirm, but finally his eyes clear and soften, and he smiles at you, leaning forward again to kiss your cheek.

“I know you won’t, baby,” he whispers, smiling against your skin. “You won’t because you’re good, yeah?” He chuckles at your furious nod, fuck, you’d agree to anything to get his hand off you. “Yeah, you’re good. You’re gonna be _so good_ for me when I’m done with you.”

“Jesse?” you ask, alarmed at his word choice, but before you can question him more he leans back and, quick as lightening, backhands you hard with his metal hand.

The world goes dark around you.  
\------------  
As you start to come back from the darkness, bits and pieces of your surroundings register around you; your hands are still bound, now twisted uncomfortably above your head as you lay on your back, the light is still on and casting a red glow through your eyelids, and you can hear Jesse breathing from the end of the bed, his weight causing a dip between your feet, pressure on your ankles… A pitiful groan escapes you as your face throbs from his hit, and you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise that takes up at least half of your face now.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Jesse says, sounding much more cheerful than he did earlier.

“Is it morning?” is all you can manage to wrap your head around. You open your eyes, squinting in the light, and try to pick your head up to look at him, but your vision swims and you let it drop again.

“Or night,” he replies, and you can almost hear the shrug in his voice. “What’s it matter?”

It doesn’t, and so you don’t reply to him, which seems enough for him. The bed dips and rocks as he hoists himself up and off it. Curiously, the weight on your ankles, that you’d assumed to be his hands, doesn’t move. You jerk your legs but they don’t move; you can barely even bend your knees. Panic starts to set in as you twist and writhe, only to find you have almost no mobility.

You realize you’re still naked.

“I realized somethin’,” he says, causing you to freeze. “Do you wanna hear?”

You lift your head again and look down at your body. Jesse’s tied you spread eagle to the bed with ropes so short and tight you can’t bend your knees, spreader bar attached to your ankles to keep you immobile and awkward. Your stomach rolls when you realize he’s got you naked and at his mercy, but you try not to let your fear show when you raise your eyes to meet his.

That goes right out the window when you see the crowbar in his metal hand.

“Darlin’,” he says, voice low. A warning. Throat tight, you give one slow nod, feel the tension in your body climb higher when he smiles.

“I realized that maybe I’ve been goin’ about this wrong,” Jesse says, idly bringing the crowbar down to tap against the bed next to your immobile legs. “I’ve been tryin’ to be gentle with you, because I love you, honey, I really do.” Jesse smiles at you but you can only stare owlishly at him, trying to calm your heart, hoping he just wants to scare you like usual, hoping, hoping… “I don’t like hurting you, baby. I _don’t_ ,” he insists to what he must think is your unbelieving face. “I just want to be good to you, I just want you to _love me_ ,” and here he picks up the crowbar and slams it back down, inches from you. You yelp at the motion.

“Do you love me?” he asks you, and you look up at him, crying. Jesse looks desperate and angry, he looks like his world is ending. You don’t love him, you don’t, but for the first time you wonder if maybe he thinks he really _does_ actually love you. The thought is terrifying, but you think you know what he’s planning on doing and you desperately don’t want him to.

“Yes,” you tell him, voice barely a whisper. He looks at you, dark eyes unreadable, before scoffing.

“You’re lyin’,” Jesse says, sullen. “I know when you lie, sweetheart. You don’t love me… but that’s my fault too.” Absentmindedly he brings the crowbar up and rubs it against his neck, gazing away from you. “I’ve been lenient, like I said. Givin’ you too much freedom. How are you going to ever love me if you keep thinking you can _leave_?”

“Jesse _please!_ ”

“I’m tired of you begging,” he says flatly, and brings the crowbar down on your shin as hard as he can.

White hot pain shoots up your leg into your brain and you feel blinded and dumb, a ragged scream tearing it’s way out of your throat as your leg throbs with your heartbeat, both numb and on fire at the same time.

“Now _that_ ,” Jesse says gleefully, though you can barely hear him past your loud sounds of pain, “is a sound I can get used to. I wanna hear it again.”

Again the crowbar comes down, this time on your other shin, and you scream louder before the pain catches up to you and you choke on your own breath. You cough on it and start sobbing and whimpering, another scream torn from you when Jesse reaches his flesh hand out and squeezing your leg, squeezing the shattered bone. Time goes funny, and you aren’t sure how long you exist in your world of pain. Dimly you can hear the clink of his spurs as he walks to stand next to your head. You open eyes you didn’t realize you’d clenched shut and gaze up at him, his face doubling through your tears.

“I didn’t like doin’ that,” he says, but he’s smiling. “I’m gonna untie your legs, but baby…” He hooks the clawed end under your chin, tilts your head this way and that. “I won’t like it, but I’ll do your arms too. Don’t make me.”

The crowbar hits the floor with a thud when he drops it, and he does as promised and unties your legs. He keeps your arms bound, but you don’t care now. You can barely care about anything past the horrible pain from your lower body. Jesse kisses each of your ankles gently, smiling up at you from his crouched position.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, sounding awed. “Never seen you cry, you look so beautiful… I know it hurts, honeysuckle, I know… Let me make it better… Let Jesse make you feel better…”

He gently spreads your legs further apart and you bite your tongue so hard you taste blood, trying not to scream again. Jesse kisses your ankles again, kisses his way around your shins, kisses your kneecaps, kisses his way up your thighs, he grins up at you and kisses you, grins and kisses, up and up and up…

You can’t do anything but cry harder.


End file.
